Over the Hill
by savvyliterate
Summary: Lorelai Gilmore could see her mortality, and it terrified her.


_Happy birthday to the reigning Lorelai! This is the third in a series of birthday stories, starting with "Buddy Holly" then "Birthdays." This story is for nojamhands, whose enthusiastic return to writing helped me get back to writing myself. Be sure to read her story "Roots and Wings"!_

* * *

The big thing about Lorelai's 51st birthday was … there was no big thing.

She always made a big production about her birthday. Lorelai _loved_ her birthday and quite firmly believed it should be a national holiday. On her 44th birthday, she discovered that her birthday coincided with National Plumber Day, which involved Sookie having to bail her out of jail because the plumber visiting the inn that day did not appreciate spontaneous hugs. Her birthday was also National Telephone Day and National Zucchini Day, but Lorelai refused to acknowledge that she shared the most holiest of days with a _vegetable_ of all things.

But in the past few years, there had been a particular focus on her birthday. Her 48th birthday had come in the months after her father died, but Rory had actually been there for it for the first time in years. That alone made it special. Her 49th birthday was her first as a married woman and impending grandmother, and then her 50th, well … her 50th birthday had been a Guinness-setting record day.

How could one top setting the record for the world's largest cup of coffee? Much to the relief of coffee farmers all over the globe, Lorelai didn't even bother to try.

Instead, a strange sort of melancholy seized her in the weeks leading up to her birthday, one she hadn't felt since the days after her father's death. She projected the same attitude she always did, fooling everyone except one person - only because he happened to be married to her and share her bed. But wisely Luke hadn't said anything, but she saw him giving her worried looks when he thought she wasn't paying attention. It was the same worried looks he had given her after her father died, and it made her even more reticent to talk about whatever bothered her.

No birthday celebration sounded appealing. Various friends and neighbors suggested everything from a sock hop (Babette's idea) to a puppet show (Kirk's idea.) Sookie offered to come down from the farm so they could have a spa day, but that also didn't sound right. Only one thing remotely piqued her interest, and on many levels, it terrified her to the core.

"I was thinking of going to see my mother for my birthday," Lorelai told Luke as he shuffled through receipts a couple weeks before the big day. They were the only ones still in the diner, and together they had cleaned until all that was left was counting the money.

"OK," Luke said absently, frowning at the bits of paper. He pushed up the reading glasses he finally acceded to getting a few months earlier - acceding meaning he grabbed the first set he saw at the drugstore that didn't look horrible.

Lorelai winged an eyebrow and took a sip from the coffee she finagled him into brewing despite the late hour. "By myself."

"OK."

"And you're OK with that?"

"It's your birthday." He switched to counting cash.

"You didn't have plans, right?"

"Nope. It's your birthday."

Oh good, they were getting to play her favorite game: poke Luke into annoyance. "Are you really, _really_ sure?"

He huffed and yanked off the reading glasses. "Look, it's your birthday! Do what you want! If you want to go skiing naked at the North Pole, go for it. I'm not gonna tell you what you can or can't do, and it's not like you listen to me begin with!"

"Oooh, two minutes to meltdown! Is this a new record?" Satisfied, Lorelai finished off the coffee. "And I do want you to go with me."

"I figured you did."

Lorelai narrowed her eyes when Luke slid across the diner's work schedule for the rest of the month to her, marking that he would be gone the week of her birthday. "You were planning this."

"It doesn't help," he told her, "that you left your laptop on in the living room, even though I keep telling you you're gonna burn the screen out. And when I went to close it, I saw the stuff up for Nantucket. So, I went ahead and cleared the week."

"And what if I decided not to go?"

"Then we were going to spend the whole week having sex."

Now her interest _really_ piqued. "OK, I suddenly am very interested in plan B. Could you elaborate on this? I'm open to inspiration."

Luke took her coffee mug away from her. "We're going to Nantucket."

Lorelai sighed. "We're going to Nantucket." She grunted and absently kicked her leg. "Can we still try to fit in the sex marathon?"

"We can try."

She would have to live with that.

* * *

Lorelai could easily count on one hand the number of times she made her mother happy. _Really_ happy, as in she hadn't managed to actually screw something up in the process, say the wrong thing, or walk downstairs with both a giant chocolate stain and a huge rip in her skirt. It only happened once. Or twice. In the same day.

It wasn't their first trip to Nantucket. Per their agreement two and a half years earlier in signing over Luke's inheritance from Richard over to Lorelai, they had agreed to spend two weeks in the summer and one at Christmas in Nantucket each year with Emily. They dutifully followed the terms that Emily had set out, with only minimal grumbling and one instance of Lorelai trying to get out of it.

But this was the first time Lorelai had actually initiated a trip to Nantucket, and it had sent Emily over the moon.

"I had those AirBnB people clear out of the Blackstone house," Emily told them when she picked them up from the airport.

"You canceled their reservation?" Lorelai gaped.

"They'll find another," Emily said with a dismissive wave of the hand. "They're all over the place this time of year, between the spring break and summer vacation. But, it's all yours for the duration, as it normally is. And we really must find a better name for that place. The Blackstones were pricks, if you remember."

"Mom I made this decision literally a week ago."

"Well," Emily sniffed, "I've known about it for _two_ weeks."

"Is that so?" Lorelai had wound up in the back seat, the perfect place to glare daggers in the back of Luke's head. "I suppose a little bird told you, huh?"

Said bird said nothing.

"It's only polite to get as much warning as possible," Emily said.

"And what if we hadn't decided to come?"

"Oh, last minute AirBnB rental prices are extremely lucrative. You should know this, Lorelai, running an inn."

Oh yes, she knew. And Lorelai _hated_ AirBnB because it took business away from her inn. She was grateful for how wildly successful the Dragonfly was in the age of peer-to-peer rentals, and a big part of it was because Taylor had passed a law preventing anyone in Stars Hollow from operating one. It was one of his edicts that Lorelai had completely been behind, especially it came from Kirk wanting to open his own "inn" in his and Lulu's spare bedroom.

Despite the horror in having someone's vacation home be yanked out from under their noses, Lorelai was immensely grateful for the use of the Blackstone house. It was smaller than the Crap Shack, but in a way more open. A wraparound porch provided a look on to the ocean. A flower-laden stone path connected it with the Sand Castle, her mother's house. She had to admit that she loved the place. There was something peaceful about it that settled into her bones. It was the same feeling she had gotten the first time she stepped foot in Stars Hollow with a barely toddler Rory.

But even that peace eluded her the next morning when she woke up to the sound of her phone buzzing on the nightstand. She absently fumbled for it, squinting at the notification. She shot into a sitting position when she saw that it was a missed call from Rory. She got the phone unlocked just as a second notification came through, this one from her Messages app.

"Hey Mom! Happy birthday from us!" Rory had typed. "We're doing the tourist thing today, but I'll call you later tonight. Go have some lobster! Love you!" Along with the words was a selfie of Rory, Logan, and toddler Richard in front of the shrouded Big Ben, under renovation.

Tears burned in the back of Lorelai's eyes, and she couldn't quite stop them. She stared blindly at the window, not seeing it as the tears rolled down her cheeks. She didn't hear the tread of footsteps outside the bedroom or hear the clank of dishes as a tray was hurried set aside. But she did see Luke, because he was suddenly crouched in front of her and looked mildly panicked.

"Hey, hey. What is it?" he rubbed her knee as the tears only grew worse. "What's wrong?"

She couldn't tell him, especially when she didn't quite know what was the matter herself. The mattress dipped as he sat next to her on the bed, switching to rubbing her back. She read the message from Rory, then re-read it, then sniffed. "Why didn't you have lobster before?"

"What?"

Lorelai swiped at the tears. "When we went to Martha's Vineyard. You said you hadn't had lobster before. You're from Connecticut. How could you have not had lobster before you were 39 years old?"

Luke looked truly baffled, and she could see him sifting through his memory until he latched onto the right one. "Martha's … that was … you waited 13 years to ask me why I'd never had lobster before?" He shook his head. "You're really something else. My dad was allergic."

"That's it?"

He shrugged. "Well, that ruled out eating it while he was alive. Otherwise, it's not cheap, so I never thought about it until we were on Martha's Vineyard. Could you imagine me serving lobster roll at the diner?"

"Oh, but you could!"

"Huh. I could." He considered it, and Lorelai smiled through her tears. Finally, he was going to add something to the menu that she recommended. None of her previous suggestions had made it through the vetting process, much to her regret. Her proposed line of soda-flavored pancakes would have been a huge hit.

"How's Rory?"

"She's good. She's going to call later." Lorelai tossed the phone aside and scrubbed away her tears. "Now, where's my breakfast, birthday servant?"

Before he could follow her command, she cupped his face with her hands, then moved her fingers into his close-cropped hair. He had upped and left the diner one day the previous summer and had come back with his hair cropped close to the scalp, finally acknowledging the baldness that had been dodging him ever since she'd known him. It made him unbearably sexy. It had grown out some now, but the short strands still looked good and felt better when she ran her fingers through it.

She kissed him, because it was her birthday and birthday girls were entitled to spectacular kisses from their husbands. He didn't disappoint. He drew her in close, hands splayed over her back as he took the kiss deeper and stole the breath right out of her. Kisses like these always felt like that very first one outside the Dragonfly so long ago: banked passion and devotion that hadn't died, no matter what they had done to each other over the years.

He ended it, kissing her nose, then her forehead. "Your food's gonna get cold."

"I don't care," she said, then lightly shoved until he fell on his back. She straddled him, stripped off her pajama top, and forgot all about her breakfast.

* * *

Lorelai spent her day curled on a chair on the back porch, watching the ocean and not reading the book she held loosely in her hand. Her thoughts drifted aimlessly, and her phone was buried beneath her pillow in the bedroom. She heard the low murmur of voices come from the kitchen and marveled at the relationship her mother and Luke had developed over the years - namely that there _was_ one to begin with.

Emily had gone from chief sabotager to being their chief champion in many ways, and they had actually grown affectionate. The biggest shock had come during their first trip to Nantucket in 2017, months after their wedding, when a dazed Luke had told Lorelai that Emily actually apologized for what happened with Christopher so long ago.

"The words 'I'm sorry' actually came out of her mouth?" Lorelai gaped.

"They did."

"Did you record it?"

He slanted her a look. "No."

"Make her do it again! This needs to be recorded for posterity. Chiseled into a wall somewhere. Emily Gilmore actually apologized."

Lorelai smiled at the memory as her mother came outside, holding two glasses of sherry. Emily handed one over as she took the other chair. "What on Earth is wrong with you, Lorelai? You've been sitting out here doing nothing all day."

"What? Your favorite spy is reporting my every move again? You barely speak for years and now you're besties. Do you play Words with Friends with each other?"

"Well, as a matter of fact ...," Emily started, and Lorelai groaned. "As I seem to recall, Lorelai, the 'system' you had in place for years effectively kept us from seeing him except on major holidays, so it was quite difficult to develop a relationship to begin with."

"The system was put in place because you didn't like Luke!"

"You assumed I didn't like him."

"You were the one who used Chris to break us up in the first place!" Lorelai tossed the book aside. "You were the one who sat in those therapy sessions and insisted Luke and I didn't have something real, that we were just booty buddies for nine years. You had no idea of the tough times we went through to get to where we were by that spring, or even through to now."

Emily sipped from her sherry, and Lorelai braced for the withering comeback. "Your father and I were separated."

"Yes, I remember. Very clearly."

"I think I have some idea of what the two of you went through a decade ago."

Lorelai just stared at her mother. The words Emily had thrown at her in front of the therapist still burned, even after three years. What burned even more was that her mother had been right, and it had taken her aborted Wild trip to realize that. Yes, her Wonder Woman stamina and a box of Twinkies got her through the tough times.

But, she eventually realized, so did Luke. She _needed_ him, and she had never fully acknowledged to herself before then how much she did emotionally and how much she had always relied on him. That one terrible, terrible year they had been apart, she had been well and truly lost.

"Now, tell me why you're here instead at one of the Stars Hollow shenanigans that you throw on your birthday."

Lorelai stared into her untouched sherry. "Your guess is as good as mine. I just didn't feel like it this year."

"There is nothing wrong with spending a quiet birthday with your mother and your husband. Not every birthday has to be a spectacle, Lorelai."

Lorelai thought of her hidden phone. Of giant pizzas and grandsons and record-breaking coffee. "I miss Rory," she blurted.

"I know." Emily drained the last of her sherry. "I know what it's like not to have your child around on your birthday." She looked toward the ocean, and for the first time in what felt like forever but really only since her father's funeral, Lorelai could see the pain in her mother's eyes.

She wouldn't apologize for that pain. She wouldn't - couldn't - for any of it. Rory had her bumps over the years, but she had revitalized her writing career and had both Logan and her son. While they weren't married, Rory and Logan were happy in the way she and Luke had been happy in their nine years pre-marriage. Hell, there was a good chance she wouldn't be married now, because if she hadn't left Hartford, she wouldn't have met Luke. That fateful choice 33 years earlier had led to both hers and Rory's happiness now.

And she _was_ happy.

But she was 51 years old, and it felt like it had taken forever to achieve that steady happiness. There was so much she had to let go because of her own fears, starting with having a child with Luke. That chance had slipped away because neither of them had been willing to say the words. Because he had taken his cues from her, the way she had wanted him to. They could had been married years earlier, had a child of their own, had she found her courage a good decade earlier. She wanted as much time with him as possible.

She had spent more than a half century on this earth and could see her remaining time with her mother slipping away. She couldn't let her go. Not yet. Not when they just achieved this relationship that wasn't filled with sniping or backbiting most of the time.

Lorelai Gilmore could see her mortality, and it terrified her.

"What was it like when you turned 51?" Lorelai asked Emily.

"Well," she said, "it was several years before Rory started Chilton." Her gaze locked on Lorelai's. "It was the first time I really recognized I was growing older. I saw that my daughter ran away from my world, and I wasn't sure that I would ever get her back, and I wondered if I ever would."

Lorelai swallowed hard. Then a second time. "You did. In a way."

Emily inclined her head. "In a way. On her terms. Finish your sherry, Lorelai, and come inside. I have something for you."

Curious, Lorelai did as she was told, followed her mother into the house, and froze when they reached the kitchen. A plate sat on the counter, stacks upon stacks of apple tarts creating a cake-like shape on the platter. In the top ring of tarts, candles had been stuck. Emily moved to the cake, picked up a lighter, and started lighting them.

Lorelai just gaped and wished she had her phone. "You made me an apple tart cake!"

"Yes, I do know that much about your favorites." Emily lit the last one. "There you go. Now, make a wish. I will not be singing, as I find the practice crass."

And she always had found it crass. It made Lorelai grin. "Thanks, Mom."

"This is also for you." Emily handed Lorelai a legal-sized envelope. "It just needs both of your signatures. Consider it a down payment on your inheritance."

Lorelai opened the envelope and pulled out a stack of papers, then blinked. It wasn't just papers, but it was a deed to the very property they stood on, in hers and Luke's names. "Mom?"

"Sand Castle is going to Rory," Emily informed her. "So I wanted to make sure that this was sorted for the two of you. I suggest you still maintain this as an AirBnB to pay the property taxes. I can manage it for you. I find that I quite enjoy that. Now, just give this place a decent name, and don't make it tacky like the Crap Shack."

Lorelai laughed until she was wiping tears away. Happy tears. She would definitely have to think of a suitably tacky name just for old times' sake. "Thank you," she told Emily with sincerely honesty. It was most likely a ploy to get them to visit more often, Lorelai knew. But she found that, for once, she didn't mind.

"Could you please blow out the candles before one of them topples and takes the island down with it?" Luke spoke up from behind Emily, and Lorelai absently wondered where he had been and why he had her phone in his hand.

"Spoilsport," she teased, sticking her tongue out at him.

"Lorelai, you are too old for such a childish gesture!"

"No, I'm not," she proclaimed and blew out the candles. And when one toppled from its perch before the flame went out, Luke managed to catch it. He barely singed his fingertips.

He then handed her cell phone to her. "I took a picture."

"You? Used technology?"

Luke glared at her as she navigated to the camera app and saw that he hadn't taken just one picture, but a series of them. Her looking pensive on the porch with the book she hadn't read. Her and her mother sitting together with their sherry. The lit apple tart cake and Lorelai accepting the deed to the house from her mother. The happy tears in her eyes. The final photo was of Lorelai starting to blow out the candles. It wasn't a bad birthday after all, she conceded.

"I figured you could send those to Rory and April," Luke told her.

"They're not half bad, Ansel Adams." Lorelai blew him a kiss and did just that.


End file.
